


right where you are, that's where i am (i'm your man)

by nishtabel



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Plug, D/s undertones, M/M, Size Kink, consider this...a smut sandwich, more characters in part 2, porn at the beginning, porn at the end, some character and worldbuilding bs in the middle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishtabel/pseuds/nishtabel
Summary: Ashe is the one who suggests the plug, and Dedue wants that on record.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 24
Kudos: 189





	right where you are, that's where i am (i'm your man)

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a month of struggling with this fic, but part 2 is the part that's giving me trouble, so here--take part 1!
> 
> um, ashedue has consumed my life.

Ashe is the one who suggests the plug, and Dedue wants that on record.

“So, you know, the gala is next weekend,” Ashe says sweetly, tracing a finger through the sweat and semen on Dedue’s chest. Ashe had insisted on riding him, this time, and Dedue realizes now it was because Ashe _wants_ something. He should know better than to trust Ashe’s soft smile at this point, especially when it’s wet against the head of his cock.

“I do know,” Dedue replies. Ashe’s breath is hot against his throat.

“Right,” Ashe says. “Well, I had an idea. I think you’d like it.” He smiles—small, soft, sweet—against Dedue’s shoulder, his eyes playful and sharp. Dedue’s eyes narrow, suspicion fighting against his sleepy, post-orgasm haze.

“Do you?” Dedue grunts. He’s curious, but Ashe doesn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“Mm,” Ashe purrs, and nips at Dedue’s shoulder. “I think you should plug me up beforehand. You know, stretch me open and force me to carry the weight of your cock the whole evening...” He flicks a nipple, casual; his eyes carefully avoid Dedue’s face. “Then, maybe, we could find a quiet place, maybe upstairs in Mr. von Vestra’s study with that big, fancy desk...and, well.” A shy scrape of teeth follows Ashe’s fingers on Dedue’s nipple. “I’d already be ready for you.”

Dedue groans despite himself, a shiver building at the nape of his neck. “Ashe,” he says, weakly.

Ashe closes his soft, pink lips over Dedue’s nipple and _sucks_, just as his fingers skitter across Dedue’s collarbone. “Doesn’t that sound nice?” he asks. “Imagine: me, already speared open on a plug, almost as big as your cock...when you take it out, I’d clench around it, gaping, hungry for you.” Ashe presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dedue’s sternum, more tongue than anything. “You’d be able to slide in so easily, you know. Watch my tight, wet hole swallow your thick cock—”

“—Ashe,” Dedue gasps, dick twitching painfully in curiosity. “We can’t—”

“Oh, but we can,” Ashe murmurs, moving to fully straddle Dedue’s waist. He grins as Dedue’s hips thrust weakly up, one hand perched on Dedue’s chest for balance. “Think about it, Dedue. We could sneak away for a bit. Dimitri’ll do most of the talking, anyway, since the whole thing’s about him. They won’t need us there the whole time.” He bites his lip, dragging his hips against Dedue’s stomach, just beyond reach of Dedue’s stirring cock. “You know you wanna.”

Oh, and he does. _Desperately_. Ashe has this effect on him, has always had this effect on him; Dedue is, for all intents and purposes, wrapped around Ashe’s little finger. _Whipped_, as Sylvain had so helpfully supplied. Ashe could ask anything of him—anything at all—and Dedue would agree, he thinks.

Even this.

“Unfair,” he manages, trying to sound chiding. Ashe sees right through him and rolls his hips again.

“Is that a yes?”

Dedue groans. “Yes,” he says, and finally allows himself to grasp Ashe’s hips with both hands. Ashe is so—so _small_, so delicate, so soft and pliant and pale beneath Dedue’s hands. He’ll never get tired of the way Ashe blushes for him, the way his freckles stand out against the deep pink flush of his skin. The way Dedue can almost wrap his hands around Ashe’s waist, how his fingers _almost_ touch against the small of Ashe’s back, how Ashe knows how much bigger, stronger, powerful Dedue is, how his tiny, pink cock jumps against his belly every time Dedue’s touches him. Dedue thinks, with his fingers mirroring the bruises he’d pressed into Ashe’s hips earlier: _He’s perfect_.

“Yes,” he says again, because Ashe needs to hear it. “Yes. Yes, I’ll—plug you up for the gala.”

A smile splits Ashe’s face, and he brings a hand to trace the blush on Dedue’s face. “So sweet for me,” he says, green eyes twinkling. “So good.”

“Yes,” Dedue gasps, arching his back into Ashe’s touch. “Yes, yes, Ashe—”

* * *

As it turns out, Ashe had already ordered the plug by the time he’d asked Dedue to use it. It arrives two days later as a small, cardboard box on their stoop.

“That was fast,” Dedue says, an eyebrow raised. He hands the package to Ashe, who accepts it with unbridled excitement. “When did you order it, again?”

Ashe pauses, but only for a moment. “Uh,” he says, searching intently for the scissors. “Last week? Thursday or Friday, I think.”

Dedue is silent for a moment. “You planned this,” he finally says, accusing.

Ashe doesn’t even blush. _Shameless_, Dedue thinks fondly. “Yeah,” Ashe admits, as he cuts open the package. “Plus, you know, Annette hooked me up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought I told you,” Ashe says. “She and Ingrid started an online sex toy shop with Dorothea.” He pulls the box open with a triumphant shout. Inside is a beautiful, ornate velvet box, tied shut with a silk ribbon. It’d be tacky if it weren’t so—well, beautiful.

Ashe pulls it from the box with reverence, thumbs brushing against the velvet with a soft whisper. “God, I’m so fucking excited for this,” he says, and Dedue can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, have you finally grown tired of my dick?” he teases, kneeling beside Ashe. He’s a little entranced, himself.

“No!” Ashe says, whipping to face Dedue. “I could never. Your dick is perfect.”

Dedue laughs at his genuine distress, so clear on his face. “I’m only teasing,” Dedue says. “I’m not worried.”

Ashe smiles then. “Good,” he says, before turning back to the velvet box in his hands. “Because I ordered the biggest size they had, and I still don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Dedue coughs. “Uh,” he says. “How big do you think I am?”

“Big,” Ashe says, shrugging. He pulls the ribbon from the box and tosses it to the side, placing the box on the floor in front of them. Ashe shivers in anticipation.

“Slut,” Dedue teases, because he knows Ashe likes it.

“Only for you,” Ashe says, and opens the box.

Inside sits a plug larger than Dedue’s ever seen. It’s shiny and thick, made of clear glass that he’s sure is cool to the touch; it lies cushioned in dark velvet, a little ribbon tied around the thin neck just above the base.

“Wow,” Dedue says, because it’s all he can muster. “You, uh, really did order the biggest one.” He doesn’t say it, but he’s sure it’s thicker than his own cock. Ashe has always been a—a size queen, as he’d described himself.

“Told you.” Ashe touches the plug gently, as though afraid he’ll break it. It’s almost laughable, given how _big_ it is.

“Pick it up,” Dedue says, orders, and Ashe shifts forward, pulling the plug from its velvet bed.

He cradles it in his small hands, brushing the tapered head with two fingers. “It’s cold,” he says, dumbly, and then laughs. “I mean, I knew it would be, but.” He shivers and turns it over in his hands, examining it from every angle. Seemingly satisfied, he turns to Dedue and asks, “You know why I chose this one?”

Dedue shakes his head.

Ashe smiles, soft, and touches the base. “It’s clear,” he says, like Dedue doesn’t already know. “I wanted you to be able to see how open I am for you.”

And, oh—Dedue didn’t know _that_ part. He swallows. “Oh,” he says, and this time, he’s the dumb one.

“I thought you’d like that,” Ashe says, still smiling. “You don’t like to say it, but I know.”

Dedue feels a blush rise on his cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears. “You do, do you,” he says, and it’s not a question. He’s too distracted by the idea of stretching Ashe open just to see—see him gaping. He’s be able to see _everything_, he thinks. Goddess.

“You chose well,” Dedue says, voice hoarse. “I’m—excited.”

Ashe places the plug back in the box, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his fingers trail over the thickest part of it. “Me too,” he breathes. He shuts the lid with a quiet _click_. Turning to Dedue, he says, “We’ll save it for the gala.”

It’s not quite a statement, but a question: if Dedue wants to use it now, right _now_, like half of him longs to do, Ashe will lean back and open himself on Dedue’s fingers. But it’s for the gala, a special purchase, and Dedue doesn’t want Ashe getting too used to its girth. He wants it to be a struggle; wants Ashe’s confidence to be wrecked as his tight ass clenches around the unrelenting plug, wants Ashe to be begging for Dedue’s cock by the time he drags them both to an empty room. He wants, he realizes, for Ashe to be so hard and aching for him that when Dedue finally pulls the plug from his body, Ashe is sobbing for it.

Dedue says none of this. Instead, he tilts Ashe’s face up for a kiss, two fingers beneath the point of his chin. “We’ll wait,” he says.

Dedue will make it good for him.

* * *

The gala comes faster than either of them are expecting. Dedue feels as though he’s blinked, and a week has passed. Dimitri sends them all home early on Friday, offering a rare smile before he disappears back into his office. He’s been distant lately, Dedue has noticed, and he’s about to knock on his boss’ door when he gets a notification on his watch.

_ready and waiting ;)_, Ashe says, immediately followed by a lewd picture of his flushed, leaking cock, flat against his belly.

Dimitri can wait, Dedue thinks.

The drive home is quiet and longer than it has any right to be. Dedue’s half-hard the entire time, cock pushed down the leg of his pants to minimize his growing discomfort. He’d known Ashe would pull something like this—had suspected it, at least—but that doesn’t make him any less affected. It almost makes it worse, since his head has been full of _Ashe_ all day: Ashe, palming himself through his jeans; Ashe, slipping a hand into his underwear; Ashe, with his pale, delicate fingers curled around the length of his pink cock. His imagination has been running Dedue ragged all day, and Ashe’s text is less the icing on the cake, and more the oven that solidifies his fate. Dedue aches with a desire he’d never known he could feel, until Ashe.

He pulls into their driveway with single-minded focus, ignoring his crooked parking job as he fumbles for his keys. Ashe is in there, he knows, fucking himself open on his fingers, too thin and soft to satisfy him. That’s the point, though: that’s always the point when Ashe fingers himself, whipping himself into an unholy mess of arousal and desperation. Dedue has seen it many times, has come home to Ashe struggling to fuck himself with four fingers, flushed to his chest and his cute, pink nipples.

The door yields, finally, under Dedue’s shaky grasp, and he just about trips over his shoes as he toes them off in the doorway. Ashe’s moan—purely for show, Dedue knows—floats down the hallway, and he rushes to their bedroom.

What greets him is worse—_better_, the crueler parts of his mind sing—than anything he could have imagined. Ashe lies face-down on their bed, ass in the air and facing the door. Dedue can tell by the hitch and drive of his hips that he’s been here for a while; his suspicion is confirmed when he sees the wet spot on the bed, just beneath Ashe’s weeping cock. Ashe has one arm folded beneath his chest, unsteady in its efforts to hold him up, and the other one is—

“Fuck,” Dedue whispers, arousal threading him like a needle. Ashe has himself impaled on one of their larger dildos, smaller than Dedue’s own cock but still hard to take. Dedue watches, enraptured, as Ashe’s filthy, stretched hole swallows the toy almost to the base, a high wail rising in Ashe’s throat.

Dedue palms himself roughly, dick hardening with a startling urgency. Ashe grinds his hips back against the toy, a thin strand of precum dripping from his cock.

Dedue swallows against the thickness rising in his throat. “Ashe,” he says, and moans when Ashe pulls the toy from his body, empty hole clenching hungrily. Ashe must know what he’s doing to him, has to realize—

“Dedue,” he whines, hips stuttering, and Dedue feels his knees buckle under him. “Dedue, please, I—”

Dedue is quick to close the distance between them, palming Ashe’s ass and _spreading_. His cock twitches painfully in his trousers at the sight of Ashe’s gaping hole, and before he can stop himself, he shoves two fingers into Ashe, curling them roughly against Ashe’s prostate.

Ashe sobs beneath him, fucking himself back onto Dedue’s fingers. Ashe takes him so easily, rim soft and swollen around his knuckles. He traces Ashe’s entrance with the pad of his thumb, thrilling as Ashe clenches around him.

“Started without me, did you?” Dedue says, as close to authoritative as he can manage. He’ll put on an act for Ashe, but—_goddess_, he wants nothing more than to push Ashe down and slide home into the warm, welcoming clench of his body.

“I-I couldn’t help it,” Ashe chokes, both fists clenching next to his bowed head. “I know we said we’d wait, but—_aah—_I was just thinking about how well that plug’d fill me up, how it’ll feel just like having you stuffed in me—”

Dedue slips a third finger into Ashe’s body without warning, smacking his ass as he keens. “Trying to replace me, are you?”

“I could never—_a-ah_! Dedue—” Ashe clenches around him like he’s about to come, and, well—Dedue can’t have that. He pulls his fingers from Ashe’s body, a wave of heat rushing from his chest to his cock when Ashe whines.

“Goddess,” he mutters, his pulse fluttering wildly. “You’re beautiful.” Dedue could fall into this trap, too, could lean down and caress Ashe’s body until he falls apart, wresting orgasm after painful orgasm from Ashe’s shaking body. He’s done it before, many times, and if he’s honest, it’s his favorite way to take Ashe: softly, reverently, with pride and passion and an overwhelming feeling of _love _that he presses into Ashe’s skin with every touch, every kiss.

But that’s not for tonight; no, tonight will be different. Ashe has set the challenge, set the rules, and Dedue is powerless in the wake of his desire.

Ashe whimpers under him, shifting his ass back in open invitation. Dedue smiles and leans down, pressing a single, close-mouthed kiss to the small of Ashe’s back before shifting lower. A whine rises from Ashe’s throat as he grinds back, desperately seeking friction against Dedue’s chin.

Dedue laughs. “Relax,” he says, palms kneading the soft flesh of Ashe’s ass. Ashe has gotten—_soft_, lately, and Dedue can’t say he minds. He’s easier to grab this way, to manhandle and reposition. Ashe should be used to it at this point, but when Dedue grabs two handfuls of Ashe’s thighs and pulls, he still yelps and scrabbles against the sheets.

“Dedue, wh—”

He’s cut off when Dedue kneels at the foot of the bed and shoves his face into Ashe’s ass, teeth dragging almost-gentle against his taint. _This_, Dedue will never get tired of doing: he could spend the rest of his days under Ashe, his tongue warm and wet against Ashe’s slick hole. It helps, too, that Ashe goes wild when Dedue licks inside of him, stretches him open with two scissored fingers and presses his tongue between them. Ashe quivers and shakes against him, rutting back against Dedue’s face as he struggles to stay upright. Dedue holds him, one big hand clasped around Ashe’s thigh, while the other hand holds him open for Dedue’s tongue.

When Ashe is pliant beneath him, when his wild moans and yells turn to soft whimpers and hiccups, Dedue pulls away. Ashe offers nothing more than a quiet whine of protest, muffled where he’s got his face pressed against the mattress. Dedue strokes his thighs, smiling when they break out in goosebumps at his touch.

“You’re so good for me,” Dedue whispers, and moves to turn Ashe on his back so he can _see _what he’s done to him.

“Dedue,” Ashe says, cries, sobs. “Dedue, please, let me come, _please_.”

Dedue smiles and kisses one ankle where it’s held against his chest. “Soon,” he promises, watching Ashe roll his hips to open air. “I have to get the plug first, love.”

Ashe swallows thickly and throws a hand out to his side. “Closet,” he says. “Second shelf. Can’t miss it.”

It doesn’t take long for Dedue to find it, wrapped as it is in its decadent velvet box. Ashe pants and whines and whimpers from the bed, and while it makes Dedue ache where he strains against his trousers, he knows it’s half a show. He’s seen Ashe go longer—has _made_ him go longer—and he never cries like this unless he’s feeling especially vain. It may be Dedue’s job to know Ashe’s weaknesses, to break him apart and unravel him under firm, loving hands, but he would be a fool to think Ashe isn’t working him just as skillfully. It’s been five years, after all, and Dedue keeps Ashe around for more than the warmth of his mouth and the plush, tight heat of his ass.

Speaking of.

The plug is cool to the touch, and while a part of him thinks to warm it up, Dedue knows Ashe would be disappointed if he did. He’d ordered glass—“Pyrex, technically, so don’t worry about it breaking”—for more reasons than one, and while Ashe had given him _one_ reason, Dedue thinks he can figure out the others. He’s dripped candle wax down Ashe’s back on more occasions than one, tied his wrists above his head with red ribbon and left him, a single vibrator strapped to the top of his thigh, just below his balls; he’s laid him out and rubbed ice over his nipples until they were hard and aching, pebbled below his thumb and forefinger, and that time, Ashe’s tears hadn’t been for show.

Ashe is easy enough to read, at this point. He’s worked himself into a feverish state, pale skin beautifully flushed from his cheeks to his shoulders. Dedue would love to take credit for it, he would, but he knows Ashe has done this to himself. Sure, Dedue had helped—had buried his face in the swell of Ashe’s ass, had licked into him until Dedue felt fit to burst himself—but the near-purple flush of Ashe’s drooling cock, the wet spot on the bed, the shaking of Ashe’s knees and the unsteady, desperate clench of his hole—those were all Ashe.

Dedue can’t help but think, as he carries the plug back to the bed and groans against the pressure in his trousers, that Ashe has stolen all the fun from him.

Ashe rolls his hips for him, cock leaking against his belly as he gently strokes himself. His eyes are half-lidded, warm, _mischievous_, and if Dedue didn’t know before that Ashe was an excellent actor, a _brat_, he knows now.

“No touching,” Dedue murmurs. Ashe licks his lips as he pulls his hand away, slower than Dedue would like. There’s a glint in his eye that Dedue doesn’t trust, and he supposes he’ll just have to make it go away. “Hands above your head.”

“Yes, daddy,” Ashe says, and has the gall to wink. Dedue’s left him alone for too long; he’s gotten cocky.

Dedue places the plug to the side, just out of reach, and leans over him. “Mm,” he hums, pursing his lips. “And you think you’re ready for this?” He shakes his head, fighting to keep a smile from his lips. Trailing a finger along Ashe’s collarbone, Dedue feigns consideration. “Who’s to say I shouldn’t just plug you up and walk away?”

Ashe’s eyes widen, just a fraction. “You wouldn’t,” he says, bordering on a hiss. His hips twitch, cock still seeking friction. “We only have two hours—”

“Ah,” says Dedue, and it’s enough to shut Ashe up. He pauses, long and drawn-out, wetting his lips with a tongue he’d much rather put to better use. Using a thumb to tweak Ashe’s nipple, he allows himself a small smile. Dangerous, he thinks: Predatory. “You were begging just a moment ago.”

Ashe squirms, and Dedue is almost surprised he keeps his hands clasped above his head. He has half a mind to tie him there. He rakes a blunt nail over Ashe’s peaked nipple in contemplation. “Beg,” he says, slowly, levelly, “and I might let you come.”

The breath Ashe takes next is sharp, bright, a quick staccato. Dedue smiles, leans down to press teeth lightly around Ashe’s other nipple, licks at the stinging flesh. Ashe shudders beneath him as he trails a hand down Ashe’s chest, his stomach, his stuttering hips. Gripping the meat of his thigh, Dedue squeezes once, eyes briefly meeting Ashe’s before he continues.

“Green,” Ashe breathes, and Dedue groans, trembles against him.

“Good,” he says, and slips two fingers back into Ashe’s slick hole.

Ashe wails, truly wails, head thrown back as Dedue massages his prostate with two rough fingers. “That’s it,” he whispers against him, closing his mouth around Ashe’s nipple and _sucking_. He half expects a hand in his hair, for Ashe to break his direct order, but when Ashe remains obedient after several moments of sharp teeth and tongue, Dedue begins to soften. “So good,” he says, and slips a third finger in, gentler this time. “Don’t come until I say. I want to get the plug in you, first.”

Ashe groans, shakes, arches against Dedue’s mouth, against his torso between his spread legs. Dedue lets Ashe fuck himself on his fingers, lets the rhythm build and crest until Ashe’s hips stutter once, twice—and halfway to the third erratic thrust, Dedue pulls his fingers out.

“_Dedue_,” Ashe cries, and this time his hands do come out of their white-knuckled grip, shaking as they reach for Dedue. Dedue catches them easily, grabs them by the wrists in one hand, and _tsk_s as he places them back above Ashe’s head.

“Stay,” he orders, and Ashe nods, eyes clenched shut.

“Sorry,” he says. Dedue is happy to hear he actually _sounds_ sorry, too.

He reaches for the plug, pleased that it’s still cool to the touch. He rolls it between his hands, admiring the flared base and the delicate curve of its stem, the broad bulge and the tapered head. It’s a pretty piece of work, and Dedue is distantly thankful to the person who’d made it. An important job.

“Ready?” he asks, because he can’t help himself. He knows Ashe is prepared, knows he’s taken similar toys, knows he’s taken Dedue’s own cock, but this—this is something they’ve never done. Not to this extent. Ashe was worn smaller plugs to coffee meetings, even vibrating plugs to dinner, but they were about to attend a prestigious award ceremony that was sure to go on for several hours. Ashe had assured him several times that this was what he wanted, why _else_ would he spend almost two-hundred dollars on a specialized plug, but as much as Dedue loves him, loves _owning_ him in moments like this, he also knows Ashe has a penchant for biting off more than he can chew.

So to speak.

But Ashe nods, mutters, “yes, yes, yes,” under his breath, shifts his hips down towards Dedue’s body at the foot of the bed, and that’s it. Dedue presses a single, soft kiss to the inside of Ashe’s thigh before saying, “Turn over, love.”

Ashe scrambles to comply, on his elbows and knees with his ass raised towards Dedue’s face in less than a heartbeat. Dedue grabs at him, palms his ass with a warm hand, watches his hole flutter in anticipation. _Goddess_, but Dedue has been looking forward to this.

The tip of the plug goes in easily; Ashe shudders and whines at the chill of it, hips stuttering forward against Dedue’s grip. “Steady,” Dedue reminds him, soothes him, and continues pressing. Ashe can take this, Dedue knows he can, but only if he’s patient, and—flames take him, he’s so quickly running out of patience.

Ashe swallows the plug, bit by bit, inch by inch, until only the thickest part remains. Dedue rubs a hand at his back, scratching lightly and reveling in Ashe’s broken moan.

“I-I can take it,” Ashe pants, cheek pressed to the mattress. He breathes in, out, hips offering a jagged, off-beat thrust against the hand that holds him.

“I know you can,” Dedue says, and watches as Ashe’s body takes it, opens for it, clenching desperately around it until it’s firmly seated inside of him, flared base the only part still visible. Oh, except—

Ashe was right. Of course he was right, he was _always_ right in matters like this, but—the glass of the plug is clear enough for Dedue to see into Ashe’s gaping hole, see where Ashe is greedy with it, desperate for it, where he shudders and clenches around the unyielding glass.

Dedue groans, arousal pooling sweet and warm in his belly, just below his navel. Unthinking, he unbuttons his trousers, unzips himself, pulls his aching cock where it’s been pressing hot and painful against his thigh for far too long. He pumps himself once, twice, smears the precum that’s already slick at the tip, feels himself shake with the wanting. Suddenly greedy, he presses a thumb against the base of the plug, watching as Ashe’s body tries and fails to take it deeper, to swallow it whole.

“Oh, Ashe,” he groans, and does it again. Ashe whimpers against the bed, hiccups and pants when the toy brushes his prostate. “You’re beautiful like this.”

Ashe moans in response, spit slicking the sheets below his head. “Wanna come,” he says, and it takes all Dedue has not to reply, “Me, too.”

Instead, Dedue takes pity, rolling him over on his back and pulling his thighs together. Moving to stand, he grabs the leftover lube where Ashe had tossed it on the bed, slicking his cock with two (un)steady strokes and lining up just above Ashe’s cock. The slick, tight heat of it, of Ashe’s strong thighs around his dick, is enough to almost bring him to his knees again, orgasm threatening to break over him after a single thrust. Teasing Ashe is teasing himself; seeing Ashe so close, so desperate for it, is enough to make Dedue’s own balls tighten, his dick twitching against the warm press of Ashe’s legs.

He steels himself, panting as he pulls out, teasing his head against the swell of Ashe’s balls before thrusting back in, groaning in time with Ashe’s high whine. A couple more, and—

—and Ashe cries out beneath him, thighs crushing tight against Dedue’s cock, come splattering his stomach and chest as his hips stutter in time with his orgasm. Dedue fucks him through it, presses his knees halfway to his chest as he thrusts between his legs, slick now with Ashe’s spend, and shudders through his own release, cock throbbing as his head bows forward and he mouths wetly at Ashe’s calf.

They breathe.

“Shit,” Ashe finally pants, joints popping as he uncurls from where Dedue had folded him. They’re both sticky, damp with sweat and come, Dedue’s dick still softening and oversensitive as he pries it from the inside of Ashe’s thigh.

Dedue flops down next to him, chasing his lips for a gentle kiss. “Goddess,” he says, bringing an arm above his head. “Hope that was as good for you as it was for me.” He grins over at Ashe, taking in his flushed skin, the damp sheen of his face, his silver hair plastered to his forehead. “You look terrible.”

Ashe nudges him weakly with a shoulder. “No, you,” he retorts, and Dedue can’t help but laugh.

“We’ll shower in a second,” he says, “but come here.” He pulls Ashe in for a hug, crushes him into it, unbothered by the mess that sticks between them. He cradles Ashe like that, chin tucked above his head, a thigh thrown over his hips, for several moments.

It’s Ashe who breaks first. “Okay, off,” he says, voice laced with disgust. “We’re getting—creamy.”

Dedue can’t help the way his face twists. “Why do you insist on using that word?”

“Would you rather I say we’re _congealing_?”

Dedue considers. “No.”

“Creamy it is. Up.” Ashe rolls Dedue from the bed, wincing only when he moves to stand himself. “F-fuck,” he mutters. “That’s, uh.” A loud swallow. “Big.”

“Yes,” Dedue confirms, and he can’t decide if he’s amused, aroused, or concerned. A bit of each, probably. “You were the one who ordered it.”

“I know,” Ashe grouses as he begins to waddle towards the bathroom. “I just. Goddess. It’s a lot.”

Dedue follows him, moving to turn on the shower as Ashe grabs them both fresh towels. “You know you can tap out at any time—”

“I know,” Ashe says, and this time he's smiling, just a bit. He places a hand on Dedue’s arm, thoughtful and sweet. “I won’t. But thank you.”

“Stubborn.” Dedue kisses his forehead, cradling Ashe’s face with his hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Me, too,” Ashe replies, and winks. Stepping into the shower—only the briefest stutter, a flash of discomfort on his face—Ashe beckons Dedue in behind him. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> there will be a second part--you know, the gala part--but i've been tearing my hair out over it for three weeks and honestly there's no telling when it will finally _work_ with me, so you get this. part 1 of a two-part fic. i will finish this, i promise!
> 
> follow me on twitter at @nishtabel :)


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